Why the banana?
by EnglishTeaRoses
Summary: Oneshot, respone to Amortentia challenge. The morning after a crazed night of...who knows what? GWSS


This is a one-shot, written for the Amortentia FanFiction challenge #1. The prompt phrase is in **bold. **I've posted this before but took it off...but then I decided that I do quite like it after all, so here it is.

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Ginny Weasley fluttered her eyelids open and shut, half asleep. The bright morning sun shone through the windows, illuminating the room and causing her considerable discomfort where it played over her face. She lay motionless, wondering drowsily why she hadn't closed the curtains the night before. As she shook off her stupor, she realised that waking up was not, in fact, a very pleasant experience right now. Her head ached.

As she thought about it, she decided that ached wasn't quite the right word. Her head _pounded_. Her hair felt greasy, and she found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had no clothes on. Tentatively, she decided to risk opening her eyes. The bright light hurt her eyes, and she squinted to see better, raising a shaky hand to her head. She lay there, peering around, completely disorientated.

A hazy, sleepy sort of panic began to set in as she tried to figure out where she was. She groaned, partly in confusion, but mainly because she suddenly found that apart from being uncomfortably cold, desperately needing a shower and feeling as though her head was about to explode, her stomach was also making complaints. She sank back down, closing her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her.

Suddenly, she leapt up with a jerk that made her head throb and her stomach lurch as she felt the shock of a torrent of icy water cascading onto her bare stomach. Wildly, she grabbed onto the wall for support, cursing profusely as she struggled to maintain her balance. With unsteady hands, she reached out to turn off the shower that had so rudely awoken her.

She turned the dial, and then almost collapsed. Her legs were not feeling up to this kind of exertion, as hundreds of screaming muscles were all too happy to inform her. "Oh Merlin," she moaned, grabbing at the wall. Her entire body ached.

She sank to the floor, hardly daring to guess why she had been lying, naked, in an unfamiliar bathtub. She shivered as the effect of the freezing water began to sink in. Putting her hands to her head in mortification, she found, to her increasing horror, that she was holding a banana.

"A banana?" she whispered incredulously. With eyes that somehow wouldn't focus properly, she stared down at it with a mounting sense of dread. She shook her head slightly to clear it, the effect of which made her wince, and tried to analyse her situation (with considerable difficulty, considering her state of mind, or rather, lack of it).

"Where the hell am I? What am I doing here? Where are my clothes? And why on earth have I got a banana?" Finding no answers to her questions, she began to look around. She was in a bathroom, but not one she had ever seen before; old-fashioned, and austere.

A brightly coloured sign caught her eye as she took in her surroundings, and she sighed with relief as she saw 'Augustus Flynn's Self-Cleaning sink – you'll never scrub again!'. At least she was in a wizard's place. That was something, after all. She didn't know what she said when she was drunk, and it might not be fit for a Muggle's ears.

Shivering violently, she looked around for her clothes. Finding nothing, she wrapped the shower curtain around herself, hoping desperately her clothes were somewhere close by. She leant against the wall again for support, wracking her brain for memory of the previous night. Nothing. She had no recollection of anything.

Trying to ignore the rising queasiness she felt, she made her way over to the door, deciding to risk leaving. Maybe she would find her clothes, and, hopefully, and indication of where she was. Walking out, she found that she was in a bedroom. Definitely a man's room; there was not a hint of feminine softness at all. The bed was made, un-slept in. As quickly as her head would allow, she began to search the room for her clothes.

She found nothing; the place was completely tidy, almost as though it was unlived in. Her earlier panic returned in an urgent rush that made her head swim. Who did she know who lived in a place like this? She made a tour of the apartment, unsure whether to be relieved or worried that there was no sign of anyone else.

There was practically nothing lying around, no homely paraphernalia to suggest the place was lived in at all. And there was certainly no sign of her clothes. Wandering around, she suddenly stopped in her tracks, grabbing the nearest doorframe for support. A loud noise ripped through the air, like a cross between someone sawing wood and a broken alarm clock. She stood perfectly still, straining her ears to identify what it was and where it was coming from. It seemed to be coming from the bedroom she had just vacated.

Tentatively, she peered in through the door. Taking a cautious step inside, she began to listen again, clutching the shower curtain tightly around her. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, her breathing quick and uneven. She wished frantically for her wand. The noise wasn't coming from outside, or from the bathroom. She looked under the bed, behind the screen, behind the desk, everywhere.

She could find no trace of the source of the noise. Drawing nearer to the walk-in-wardrobe, she suddenly decided it was coming from there. There was nowhere else she hadn't looked. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, and wrenched the door open, praying desperately it was something she could cope with.

There was a crashing noise, and something large and heavy fell out by her feet. Abruptly the noise stopped, and Ginny stared disbelievingly at the form of a tall, snoring man. A tall snoring man. Ginny laughed in relief, feeling the faint beginnings of hysteria. She could deal with this. It would have been better, of course, had she known who the man was, and had he been wearing more clothes, but nevertheless, it could have been worse.

She began to prod the man with her foot, giggling as he grunted and screwed his face up in his sleep. She wondered briefly what he was doing in the wardrobe, and then reminded herself that she had woken up in a bathtub. She had no right to question this man's sleeping habits. It was probably his apartment, after all; he had every right to sleep in his wardrobe if he so wished.

She studied him as she kicked him lightly, trying to remember who he was. He did look familiar, with a clean-shaven face, angular features and an unattractively large nose. Surprisingly attractive, she decided idly as she started to kick him harder, despite the nose. She racked her brains; he was so familiar, and yet she had no recollection of him whatsoever.

She leapt back as he suddenly sat bolt upright, his eyes open, wand in hand and pointed straight at her.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, getting up and out of the wardrobe, glaring at her threateningly. At least, this is what he would have liked to happen. This is what he had planned. What actually happened was this:

"Wassaflurgwaargh?" he mumbled incoherently, crashing sideways onto the carpet at her feet. He blinked blearily up at her, groaning. She couldn't help but laugh.

He looked confusedly at his wand, then at Ginny, and back to his wand. "Higgleshpah?"

He closed his eyes briefly, and then tried again. "Who are you?" he slurred.

Ginny giggled uncontrollably, clutching her sides. "I was going to ask you the same question!" she gasped between gurgles of laughter.

As they stared at each other in bewilderment, the man put his hand to his head as recognition dawned.

"Miss Weasley?" he said disbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

"How do you know my -" Ginny began, then broke off, horrified. "_Snape?_"

Severus winced as her high-pitched shriek assaulted his ears.

"Cease yowling, girl" he snapped irritably, coming to his senses a little. "What are you doing in my private chambers? 50 points from Gryffindor!"

Ginny turned away, covering her eyes and whimpering. "Oh, Merlin, I've seen Professor Snape naked!"

Severus was unconcerned. "Move out of the way, girl."

He stalked past her angrily, trying - and failing - not to fall over.

"Stop giggling!" he ordered angrily, trying to recover his dignity. "Go into the storeroom and get the bottle marked 'hangover cure'. It's behind the Pepper-Ups."

Ginny went into the door indicated, turning around to catch a final glimpse of Snape's behind as he pulled on his trousers.

Snape muttered furiously to himself as he dressed, brooding on the unfortunate attraction of scantily-clad, red-headed students. A tremendous crash startled him out of his reverie. He rushed into the store room.

"Oops!" said Ginny, as **she smiled at him cheekily through a phial of pig urine**.

Their eyes met through the yellow liquid. Memory unfolded.

Flitwick's stag night…the drinking competition…oh Merlin…_the banana…_

"Oh, Sevvie-kins!" exclaimed Ginny happily.

"Oh, Sevvie-kins," repeated Severus glumly.

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Reviews are always appreciated!


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